Alone
by Valerie E. Mackin
Summary: One way I believe Amanda could have died the first time. Possibly does not follow actual Highlander timeline, but hey...Nobody's perfect. One-shot.


Alone by Valerie Mackin

Aloneby Valerie Mackin

Disclaimer: I do not own Amanda, or Immortality, or any other concepts in this story that come from Highlander the movie or Highlander the Series. They all belong to the lucky stiffs who thought of it first.

Author's Note: Greetings, fellow fanfictioners! This is my first story to be posted! I'm slightly proud of it, and I really hope you like it. Perhaps this doesn't fit in with the actual story line of Highlander the Series, but this is how I feel Amanda could have died. A simple story, all nice and angsty. I will accept flames, but be gentle. I burn easily. Thanks, and enjoy!

Running, I feel as if I'm always running from one person or another. Of course, if I wouldn't steal, they probably wouldn't chase me quite as much. I do get tired of stealing, sometimes, but as it's the only thing in which I'm skilled, I don't see an end to my thievery any time soon. I've always been different from everyone, never fit into society the way others felt I should've. I fit into the group of social outcasts and misfits far better than any other group, so this is where I find myself.

Normally, I'm rather alert, but as I said, I'm a bit distracted at the moment. As I dash into the street, I fail to see the carriage bearing down upon me until it is too late. The rider attempts to pull the horses to a stop, but it is too late. I feel one of the horse's bodies strike me, and the ground rushes up to slam me in the face. The carriage continues to move, until I am completely crushed beneath its weight. 

There is no feeling at first . . .and then there is only pain. Pain, washing over me, crushing my lungs, making my head swim. But the numbness scares me even more. I can't feel my legs, or my arms, or any part of my body anymore, and yet the pain remains. There are shouts coming from all around me, people screaming. I think one of the screams is my own. Somehow, I still taste blood. Hot, crimson bloods pouring down my face, coming from where I cannot imagine. The salty liquid pools in my mouth, choking me, smothering me. I can't breath. I have no air . . . Slowly suffocating . . .Gasping . . . 

The world begins to melt away. The sounds around me become more and more muffled, and I begin to feel a bit detached from my surroundings. Everything slowly fades into black. I wonder where I'll go. I suppose hell as thieves rarely go to heaven, if ever. But I don't seem to be going anywhere. Just blackness. Cool, sweet blackness. I can float here. I can fly. I am finally free, free of the world. Nothing is here except the blackness and me. I have nothing to worry about anymore. No more sickness, no more starvation, no more stealing! Oh, God, what a blessing!

Then, a violent ripping . . . a sharp, painful intake of air. My eyes fly open, but immediately shut again, finding the light far too painful and bright. My body feels as if it's on fire, and I can feel bones snapping in half. No, not in half. Snapping back in place. The fire is already starting to fade, but the light . . . But where did the darkness go?!? I was happy, finally happy, and . . . I thought I was dead; there couldn't be any other possibility, but . . . I slowly open my eyes once more, trying to steady my breathing. My breathing! I cannot breath if I am dead! I must have died! But somehow . . . I am alive. But how? How could his happen? I was . . . dead, but now I'm not. But, no. If I'm alive, then I couldn't have . . . died? But I must, have. What else could the blackness have been except. . ? 

Everything is wrong! Everything I ever thought, ever knew, all wrong! This can't be happening! Why did I have to come back? I've seen others die, watched the life fade from their eyes, and they never came back. They were allowed to remain in the darkness, while I, I am forced to remain here in this bleak world. Am I so different, then? Am I the one freak, the one monster, the demon? Am I evil? I never really thought so before, even with the thefts, but now . . . Now I'm not sure about anything. What would---nay, what will everyone think? I was looked down upon everywhere before, but I fear to think of how they shall regard me now! Should I simply not tell anyone? 

I finally become aware of my surroundings now. There are others still here, destroying my hopes of not telling anyone. As I gaze upon them, I can see the fear in their eyes, sense the panic in them. I hear the terror in their gasps and screams. They do think me evil; think me perhaps the devil himself. No one will understand, even I know that. No one has sympathy for those who are different. I can see now that I am alone, am separate from everyone, more so than ever before. I used to think that if one was unique, then that one had some sort of special virtue or gift all their own. I see my own gift as nothing more than yet another divider between me and the rest of the world. I was different before. Now am I alone.


End file.
